


Irreplaceable | Jennie

by fiestar



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), K-pop
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 11:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16853308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiestar/pseuds/fiestar
Summary: Follow me onTumblrfor more.





	Irreplaceable | Jennie

In the beginning the word Blackpink, however it was stylized or presented, was only a titled attached to a product that had somehow fallen under your management. With the growing traction of a new generation girl group set up in the shadow of one of the most influential and successful girl group acts to come out of the K-Pop industry you’re sure there were legions of people lining up down the street for a chance to even submit their résumé. Among that wave of unemployed fanatics had been you. A girl riding the tail end of your parents’ college charities and still pretending your college degree meant more than a few years and few thousand spent for another piece of paper. You were comfortable with your life. A modest apartment just outside of Seoul’s city limits, a steady job managing at a swanky clothing store that only sold clothes that were cheap imitations of things found on runways. You had the ability to be blasé about submitting your résumé to such a monster of a company. 

In fact, you’d fully intended for them to chew up your degree and credentials and glowing recommendation letters and spit it back in your face in favor of someone who at least seemed like they had an interest in the entertainment business. It’s not that you didn’t take an interest in it, you simply had enough sense of self-awareness to know how strange some fans can be with their devotion. It’s not surprising to hear of people throwing away their lives to worship their favorite idols like they’re dirties and not just talented people in makeup and expensive clothes. Sometimes even the talent is sparse with above average beauty thrown on top as a garnish to mask the fact that some members can’t hold a candle to others when it comes to holding a note or keeping a tempo. You could do it if you’re being honest with yourself. College had opened the doors for many things, vocal arts being one of the odd classes you’d picked up to fill your schedule with enough credits to pass the semester. 

In hindsight that might’ve been what had gotten you fished out of the ravenous ocean of applicants even though you were most definitely a minnow swimming in a pool of great white sharks. It had taken three interviews and one preliminary meeting with the other three managers which actually ended up being a rather informal event at a restaurant down the street from the YG building. Now you preside over all three of them and they listen to you as if what you have to say is holy writ. It makes sense from a supportive standpoint since YG decided to take a new approach to managing. Your young age makes you a more compatible match with the girls. There’s a more informal bond between the five of you, which is to be expected when you’re barely a year older than the youngest member. It helps in most situations because YG decided to relocate the girls that make up the product known as Blackpink to a slightly larger dorm, one that would be able to house you as well. So you went from college where sororities and their designated house mothers made up most of your People To Avoid list to being a sort of house mother yourself. 

The girls had been just as put out as you were at first and the fans had been in even worse shape. Blinks were bending over backwards to grab at any scrap of information about you that happened to be floating around on the Internet. They were convinced that you were a fifth member that was being added which meant a new comeback was close around the bend. The hype died down a bit when the girls were scheduled to appear on the talk show You Hee-yeol’s Sketchbook and you were trailing just outside of the feverish camera flashes, hanging around the periphery with the other managers. For a while they were convinced it was only because you hadn’t been officially announced as a member, so you weren’t allowed to participate in any group activities, but eventually the hype turned to silence only to pick back up once they saw you interacting with the members you manage. 

Living together in the dorm meant that you were considerably closer than even their friends because you were always there, sitting in the shadows at first to keep from making the girls feel suffocated then slowly emerging at the insistence of Lisa. It hadn’t involved a grandiose scheme that would’ve suited her more playful personality. Instead it was a friendly invitation to try out her new makeup because she thought some of the colors would go well with your completion. She’d been right and had unknowing started to weave a tapestry that would become your friendship with the girls not as dolls of YG but as fellow women of your age group. Now the five of you are connected tightly by a bond stronger than a manager reminded them when not to eat and what time they need to be ready, but a close friend and confidant that won’t shy away from their harsh jabs at the dark underside of the industry. 

Jennie, in particular, has crawled into your bed late at night with some grievance heavy on her tongue. You can understand her struggle seeing as she’s the unofficial leader of the band and a lot of responsibilities rest on her shoulders. You can only do so much to alleviate the stress behind the scenes, but once the cameras come on you have to step down and let them work through it on their own. Tonight is one of those night when all Jennie wants to do is curl up under your covers and pretend she’s Jennie the normal girl living a normal life and not Blackpink’s Jennie that leads a life full of glitz and glamour. The definitive separation between the two women is blinding clear and you feel guilty for ever labeling them or the band they’ve assisted in building from the ground up as just another product of the great K-Pop machine. You know now that it takes more than just beauty or talent to be an idol and you want to scorn your past self for even thinking it was only a skin deep sort of profession. Because skin deep doesn’t rock you to your core, it doesn’t tear you apart bit by bit and leave you close to tears. 

Jennie looks like a beautiful mess as she lays sprawled across your bed. Everything from the afternoon’s photoshoot is still lingering on her. The glitzy outfit, the heavy makeup, and added volume to her hair speak to what she spent the last few hours doing. You set the book you’d been reading aside and get up to get her a bottle of water. You pass Roseanne who has set herself up on the couch in front of some drama she asked you to record for her. 

“Can you get me chips, please,” she calls absently as you skirt past the couch in your way to the kitchen. It’s an innocent requests and you fulfill it easily, tossing her a bag of chips as you walk back to your room. She hums in thanks, but you barely hear it as you kick your door closed behind you. On your bed Jennie hasn’t moved an inch. 

“Drink this.” You press the bottle into her limp hand. It takes a second for her to register that she should flex her fingers to take the bottle from you. 

“I don’t like that man.” Jennie says definitively after chugging half the bottle. “He yells and he yells but he never really says anything.” Her eyes look up at you with an obvious cast of forlornness hanging over them like a blackout curtain. You stare back at her with a guarded expression, hoping she doesn’t catch your jaw tick as you try to decide the most tactful way to bring the mouthy photographer up to YG during your next meeting. The man was new to the company and most of his previous shoots had been with trainee models that were too scared to look even you in the eye for fear of tuning their shot at a big break if they piss off the wrong people. Obviously this photographer didn’t realize that Jennie is “the wrong people”. Not just as YG’s princess, but as your friend. You don’t take kindly to people that offend those close to you. 

“You’re thinking.” Jennie concluded before tentatively climbing across your duvet to sit in the V of your legs as they stretch out in front of you. Your heartbeat picks up against her shoulder blade as she leans her head into the curve of your neck. This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten this close to Jennie, or any of the girls for that matter. Skinship is common in the dorm from simple hugs to cuddling on movie nights. No, you aren’t mapping out new territory with Jennie, so why do you suddenly feel so terrified? Your entire body feels like a live wire as she casual wraps your arms around her waist and twines her fingers with yours. She hums softly to herself, lost in her own head as she brushes her thumbs over your knuckles lovingly. 

It’s all to intimate to be just between friend and worse yet between a manager and her idol. If anyone were to wander into your room in this moment they’d have a hard time not questioning the compromising position the two of you are currently in. Which makes the fact that you don’t want to pull away that much more damning. You know this is wrong, probably grounds for dismissal if the right person goes to your boss, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Jennie is smiling up at you with that sweet, tired smile and batting her eyelashes like she hasn’t already seduced you just be existing. The thoughts swimming through your head are dangerous and you opt to ignore them. 

“You should take your makeup off,” you croak, shifting Jennie slightly to the side so you can skitter into your bathroom and stare at your reflection for a few moments. You wonder what she’d be saying if she could do something other than mirror your every movement. She’d probably be screaming at you for leaving Jennie when she was so obviously in such a vulnerable state, but you’d never get another chance to comfort her if you were caught doing so in such close proximity. The wrong person might have mistaken you for lovers if they didn’t know who you were. With your mind in shambles, you scoop half of the clutter scattered on the counter into your arms and carry it back to your bed. Jennie is flopped over like a stuffed animal left unattended and it takes some coaxing to get her upright again. 

“I can do it myself,” she pouts, but makes no move to stop you as you start cleaning her face of the excessive amounts of powders and paints. Her eyelashes come off first and get set aside on your night stand. Next you use a makeup wipe to clean away the mask set on top of her skin. It comes away in messy streaks that leave behind a natural beauty that most women would kill to have. She closes her eyes so you can wipe away the last traces of eyeliner then leans forward once you lower your hand. For a brief, golden moment, you think she’s going to kiss you, then remember how badly that would end and wish for anything but her lips landing on yours. There’s an odd mix of relief and regret swirling in your chest when her head comes to rest on your collarbone. The feeling is short lived, however, because in her current position Jennie’s lips can reach the low neckline of your t-shirt that’s been stretched beyond use outside of loungewear. 

Her lips are soft as they kiss across your skin, leaving heat in the shape of her lips behind with each one. She stops after a moment as if she’s suddenly run out of energy. You both sit like that for a moment. Jennie with her head and your chest and hands on your waist and you with your hands in her hair. Your fingers catch on the end of the hair extensions the stylists decided she needed and you take the opportunity to carefully pull the extra layers of hair away from her head. 

“You should lay down, Jennie.” It takes her a few seconds to nod in agreement and position herself on her side with her head resting on the mountain of stuffed animals you received from Blinks when they still thought you were a hidden member. Jennie plays with the tail of a Pikachu plushie while you comb out the length of her extensions. This is a more agreeable situation. You’ve been here before with the other members as well. It’s a safe level of intimacy, one that only requires that you’re in her general vicinity, yet not touching. Once the tangled mass of hair returns to its original state of soft curls you lean across Jennie to lay them next to her lashes. When you move to sit back her hand shoots up to press heavy between your shoulder blades, pressing you down until you’re laying with her. 

With so little space between you it’s hard to consider what’s right and what’s wrong. Here in the moment–in your room, in your bed–there’s nothing keeping you from each other. There’s only inches of empty space separating the two of you, beckoning you to close the space and throw all your inhibitions to the wind. It’s a tempting offer but you hesitate to move. Though Jennie looks enraptured as she stares at you from across the colossally small distance, you’d rather die than move and shatter the mirage with the heavy hammer of reality. Jennie makes the decision for both of you. 

Her arm flexes around your body and you’re dragged across that damning space until you’re so close that your eyes can’t focus on her entire face. All you can see are parts. Perfect puzzle pieces that fit together to form the beautiful mosaic of her face. You eyes lingers on each feature until they trail down to her mouth. A flash of pearlescent teeth nip at her bottom lip in nervous anticipation as her hand trails up the column of your spine to twine with your hair at the nape of your neck. The slight tug sends a jolt through your entire body like she’s electrocuted you. An amused smirk flicks up the corner of her mouth for a moment before she’s hauling you forward with the hand still in your hair, sealing her lips over yours. She pulls away before you can kiss back only to breathe out a satisfied “fuck” before rejoining your lips with a renewed fever. 

There’s nothing poetic about the clash of teeth and tongue as Jennie tries to consume you with her lips alone. It’s all heady sighs and experimental touches as the two of you press closer and closer. Your hands flutter aimlessly over her body, running through her hair and trailing up her back. Without considering the consequences you pull on her dress’ zipper, snaking your other hand down the expanse of her back as more and more of her skin is exposed. The short and strapless article becomes useless and Jennie struggles to get it off without parting from you. Her sudden nudity gives you pause as it finally registers that you have no idea what you’re doing; only that you want to touch her, taste her, please her. Jennie takes your frozen state as an opportunity to tug your shirt over your head. You take the liberty of kicking off your shorts along with your underwear as you drag Jennie’s down her legs. They’re completely forgotten once they leave her body and you’re left clambering over her to press your face against her thighs. 

She’s soft and warm and completely pliant as you press her legs open with experimental eagerness. You conclude that every part of the woman spread out before you is beautiful as she reveals herself to your hungry gaze. You’re convinced there’s a flower blooming between her legs as arousal drips from her folds like rain off a blossom’s petals. Enraptured, you’re novice level doesn’t stop you from surging forward to lick across her center. The taste of her clings to your tongue like a bittersweet candy and it has you craving more. Jennie writhes above you, hands tangled in your hair as you suck her pearl between your lips. 

“Touch yourself,” Jennie pants between stunted moans. She looks completely wrecked as she begs you to join her in pleasure. Her skin is flushed an endearing shade of pink and her breasts are heaving with each shallow breath that passes between her parted lips. At her command your hand strays from her hip to press between your own legs. You’re not surprised to find yourself completely soaked as your fingers press against your entrance. You moan into Jennie’s skin as your fingers sink inside you, hips jerking to intensify the feeling. With each broad lick across Jennie’s weeping center you press your fingers back inside you. It’s like a feedback loop of pleasure. Each time you moan against Jennie a new wave of arousal drips from her center, spurring you to go harder, to get her to come on your tongue. You feel her hole clenching erratically as you tongue over it and hear Jennie struggling to keep her voice down as she nears the edge of the precipice only to push you away at the last second. 

“I want to come with you,” she pants, tugging your fingers from inside you. You whine at the loss but quickly quiet when Jennie wraps her perfect lips around your fingers, cleaning each one individually. Once your fingers are clean of your slick but wet with her spit Jennie trails your hand down her chest. You swirl your wet fingers over her nipple and watch it pebble under the cold temperature. The breathless sound that escapes Jennie spurs you to dip your head and lick across her other peaked breast. Her chest arches into your touch only to go slack and push you away with a shaky hand on your shoulder. 

“Sit back.” She explores. You do so hesitantly as you try to gauge what she’ll do next. You legs are parted and she takes a moment to stare at the mess gathered between your legs. Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips as if she’s remembering the taste of you on her tongue. The strength she uses to tug you towards her and wrap your leg around her waist is nothing short of frantic. It’s awkward for a minute as she throws one leg over yours and scoots you closer, but the second your centers touch you nearly melt. Jennie catches you as you fall forward onto her chest. It’s uncoordinated and messy for the first few minutes, then something slips and both of you moan as your buds press together in a spark of white hot pleasure. You gather each other in your arms as you undulate your hips in just the right rhythm to keep the fire blazing between you. It flares with each passing second until you’re being scorched from the inside out and you come with a muted call of her name. Jennie’s hands drop to your hips to hold you tight against her as she ruts against you, trying to reach you in paradise. 

There are tears in her eyes when she lays the two of you down in the nest of disheveled stuffed animals. They aren’t sad as they drip down her cheeks that are lifted in a smile. You kiss them away and pull her closer to you. In the fading throes of your orgasm a wave of hopelessness rises from the shadows. You’d thought you were picked for this job, entrusted with these idols, for you seemingly indifferent opinion on them and now you’ve slept with one of the girls you’re supposed to look after. Surely you’ll lose your job and YG will make it a scandal that will end your chance of ever managing in the industry again. You’d thought yourself to be the most harmless, an ant among the swarming wasps, but you’re not so sure now. It isn’t regret that has you sighing against Jennie’s pulse that’s fluttering beneath her skin. No, this is the realization that nothing can be done to salvage this situation and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’m going to get fired.” You deadpan. 

“No, you’re not. We just can’t tell anyone.” Jennie smiles mischievously, then means in to kiss you when you don’t look entirely convinced. “Don’t be sad, we can get through this. Just don’t leave.” You pat her hair reassuringly, glad that she doesn’t said nearly as upset as she had been when she first stalked into your room. You smile as she settles down happily and falls asleep on your shoulder because to you _she_ is irreplaceable. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](thx-cum-again.tumblr.com) for more.


End file.
